Demon Drums
by Raptor-Chick
Summary: This fic was inspired by Racheal Mayo's Demon Drums. The Feast of Cetanu and the ritual dancers. Better than this crappy summary.
1. Chapter 1

_My latest piece was inspired by Rachael Mayo's Demon Drums. Visit her art at __http/elfwood.lysator.liu.se/fanq/r/a/rachaelm3/rachaelm3.html__. It is well worth it! Artistic license has been taken. This was originally a one-shot, but I decided that the second half did not really apply to the picture, so I'm going to finish it later and post it as the second chapter. For the all the history on Matt and the rest of my characters, read Predator: Birth of a hunter and Predator: Return to Earth. _

_I own nothing but Matt and the personalities of my characters, so no suing me because I have nothing worth taking... Except for me brainmeats! But you don't want those. _

_Flame me if you like, but they will be posted later and laughed at. Then I will deploy my genetically engineered death kittens and DESTROY you! (Cue maniacal laughter here)_

_Cetanu: The Black Warrior, God of Death._

_Cnt'lip: A powerful alcoholic beverage._

_Eta: Slave._

_Setg'in-kwei: Tricky and quick._

_Nihkou'te: Tooth or tusk._

_Guan-Thwei: Night Blood._

_Dhi'ki-de: Death or the sleep before death._

_Kainde Amedha: Hard Meat, Xenomorph._

_M-di'Nan-ku: No life._

Demon Drums

Dozens of Yautja clothed in their ceremonial armor lounged comfortably on massive, low couches. The remains of a once splendid supper lay strewn along the long, low tables in the banquet hall. Among the hunters lay a single human, Matt Booker, known as M'aat-hew, dwarfed by his fellow warriors, though actually he was relatively tall and well-muscled for a human. His ceremonial armor was a dusty silvery brown, making his tanned skin stand out even more, making the blonde highlights in his shoulder length brown hair more vibrant. A dark gray cloak was clasped about his shoulders. Some of the Yautja were still nursing cups of powerful cnt'lip, and all stared expectantly at a large open space at the end of the room. Etas were placing a various selection of drums, chimes, wood or bone or metal xylophones, harps and rattles to the specifications of a group of Yautja. It was the Feast of Cetanu and the ceremonial drummers and dancers were about to perform.

…..

Once the instruments were in place, the performing Yautja stood or sat by their instruments. They were a random assortment of young and old, males and females and all looked in the peak of condition. They had amazingly few scars. Most did not have the massively developed muscles of a warrior and instead had long, lean muscles, much like Matt's best friend, Setg'in-kwei or one of his mentors, Nihkou'te. The females only wore a seemingly simple leather top, though in actual fact, they were heavily tooled with ornate designs. At such a distance they were difficult to see clearly. A loincloth completed the outfit. The males only wore an identical loincloth. All wore bone, tooth or claw necklaces and intrically knotted and woven bands of leather around their upper arms, wrists, thighs and calves. Small strips of leather dangled off and swayed with every movement. Some with longer dreadlocks tied them back from their faces with leather thongs. Matt had never seen any Yautja do that before. A female raised a pair of plain sticks above her head with a clack, and then brought them down on a massive drum. A thumping bass beat began to weave itself around the room. Before long, several other drummers joined in, creating a complex tribal rhythm. A huge drum, bigger even than a female Yautja, who were generally over a eight and a half feet tall, produced an unbelievably low sound, far below Matt's auditory range, who instead felt it pulsing through his bones. He closed his eyes as the strange music enveloped his senses. Then, after a while, most of the lower drums faded out, instead a quick, light tune began playing, comprised mostly of xylophones, snare drums, accented with rasps and harps.

…..

The beautiful, alien music continued for some time, captivating Matt and every Yautja in the room. He even caught some of his neighbors making soft purring noises in happiness. Each song faded into the next, telling a definite story. It was the tale of a great warrior's last hunt. Fast, throbbing, aggressive songs and quick energetic ones and slow, sad songs. There were strange ones that Matt couldn't even describe; too many emotions were stirred with it. The songs often had chanted portions to better convey the story. No singing, because the Yautja were physically incapable of it. Finally, with the great ringing crash of a gong, the music ended. Matt perked up. This was the finale when the warrior faced the God of Death, the Black Warrior, Cetanu in his finale moments before dhi'ki-de. It was his fight to stay alive and it promised to be a good one.

…..

Two Yautja strode to the edges of the open space. The shorter of the two was dressed in ornate ceremonial armor, made to look battle scarred and burned with Kainde Amedha blood. Small teeth, claws and bones dangled around his neck and hidden bells chimed softly with every movement. The other was freakishly tall; nearly eight and a half feet tall. He was representing Cetanu. His armor was smooth, except for faint etchings on the edges. It was completely black. Kainde Amedha claws dangled around his neck, their silvery blackness adding little life to his silent form. Matt knew that the Yautja couldn't see the colors, that they only chose the different materials for armor because of the way they showed heat, or a lack of it. Because one of his teachers designed and made weapons and the electronic parts of armor, he knew that the black armor showed very little heat to the Yautja since it absorbed most of it, but it was an eerie coincidence. An odd assortment of instruments was attached to their costumes. A large snare drum was set over each hip and a series of small wooden boxes in varying sizes was hung from the belt. Each hand gripped a weird bar. Both could be used to strike the instruments on the belt. A guard extended over the knuckles. It was strung with bone rings and depending on how the hand was flexed; they could move freely or be held immobile and silent. Around their ankles were strings of bells, in the shorter dancer's case, or small wood rings on the taller. Nihkou'te, who was a few couches away, yelled loudly and waved frantically at the taller Yautja. Nihkou'te's best friend and the first Yautja Matt met, Guan-Thwei, punched him in the arm to shut him up. A couple others clicked and muttered angrily, shooting glares. The tall warrior gave a very slight nod. Now Matt saw the similarities between the two. The dancer was yellow, streaked with browns, spotted with black. His patterning lacked the reds and oranges of Nihkou'te, but there was similarity enough that Matt could see they were brothers. Nihkou'te's brother's name was M-di'Nan-ku. His partner, or opponent if you refer, was green, lightly mottled with dark green. He was a more average height. They faced each other and bowed deeply. Then they walked close, steps slow and deliberate. Once they were only a few feet away they nodded. They began beating out a perfectly timed, slow rhythm before they launched into an attack.

It was not a conventional attack though. They attacked with sound and grandiose gestures only. A sharper, more aggressive sound, followed with a lunging motion was a blow. A recoil along with a rattle was a block. Each attack and block was carefully choreographed so a swift and complex pattern emerged without injury to the dancers. By altering the force of their footsteps, they changed the volume that the anklets sounded at. M-di'Nan-ku recoiled from a loud drum-beat from his opponent. He thrust the sticks into his belt and fled in a series of handsprings. He landed easily in a crouch. They began playing more suspenseful music as they circled, flaring their mandibles aggressively. Then in a series of heavy drumbeats and sharp raps, they attacked. This last attack was chaotic and M-di'Nan-ku as Cetanu quickly gained the upper hand, beating his partner to the ground. He ended with a slashing motion across the fallen Yautja's throat, timed at the same moment as the gong rang again. He straightened again, raising both arms above his head and roared. The two dancers bowed deeply and retreated to the back. The watching hunters erupted in appreciative roars, stomping their feet and banging the tables. Matt joined in, his human voice sounding odd among the deep, full throated bellows and roars of the Yautja. Matt left the dining hall with the music still ringing in his ears and the adrenaline coursing through his veins.

_Please review!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Sorry for the delay. I was away camping aaaall weekend. It was cold and rainy, but still fun. I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter. I might re-write it later and re-post it. Remember to review, I can see many people who read this and didn't review, thanks to the wonderful hit counter._

_Many thanks to:_

_Olgite the Squidgal: Hee, I'm an influence on you too! Mmm, chocolate…_

_Bastet1023: Nihkou'te is a bit of an idiot, but I loves him anyway! I seethe with jealousy over Rachael Mayo's art._

_Call-Back-Later: You think? I was a bit nervous that people would flame me. Then I would have to hunt them down and kill them, which would take a while._

_Kantra: . I'm glad you liked it!_

_Setg'in-kwei: Tricky and quick._

_Nihkou'te: Tooth or tusk._

_Guan-Thwei: Night Blood._

_M-di'Nan-ku: No Life._

_Ki'cti-pa: Wristblades._

_C'ntlip: Strong alcoholic beverage._

_Jehdin/Jehdin: Hand to hand combat._

_Kehrite: Battle arena._

_Nain-desintje-da: The Pure Win, absolute victory._

_Tarei'hasan: Unworthy opponent._

_Pauk-de: Fucker or fucking._

Demon Drums

Later, Matt, Setg'in-kwei, Nihkou'te and Guan-Thwei met M-di'Nan-ku in the long tapestry hung corridor outside the feast hall. He had shed the ornate ceremonial armor and was now only wearing the simple loincloth and leather arm and leg bands that the rest of the musicians wore. Unlike the warriors, he did not have any ki'cti-pa. Matt didn't know a great deal about the Yautja's musicians, but either M-di'Nan-ku did not fight or he was exceptional at hand to hand combat. His dreadlocks and body were streaked with sweat. He cocked his head to the side and fixed a yellow eye on Matt.

"Who is this?" he rumbled, suspicion growing on his heavily streaked and spiked face.

"This is M'aat-hew. He is the ooman that Guan-Thwei sponsored." answered Nihkou'te. A smile spread across the abnormally tall male's mandibles. He laughed, and then he shook Matt's shoulder hard enough to rattle his teeth, while Matt struggled to reach M-di'Nan-ku's shoulder.

"So you are the one that Nihkou'te told me about? He has said much. In fact, he never shuts up when he starts talking about how you were such a pest to Guan-Thwei and didn't even know it." Matt flushed slightly, which embarrassed him more, causing him to flush even more. He forced himself not to cover his face as the Yautja laughed around him.

"Yes," said Guan-Thwei, "It is true. M'aat-hew of the many questions. At least you are behaving properly now, like us." Matt glared. He found that he was often the butt of his Yautja friend's jokes because he had behaved so differently and they liked to remind him of that. Setg'in-kwei hissed in shock as he was shoved to the side by another warrior. The laughter fell silent. The warrior had a slightly squinted expression and a snarl on his mandibles. He wobbled slightly and reeked of alcohol. Unusually, this Yautja had imbibed too much c'ntlip. They usually never did since that showed that they always had control. Nihkou'te was the only Yautja Matt knew to have a problem. He jabbed a talon at M-di'Nan-ku's chest.

"_You_are not a _real _Yautja." he slurred. "You have no trophies and can't fight. _You _are nothing but a glorified aseigan." Nihkou'te growled and tightened his hands into fists. The male shoved M-di'Nan-ku, making him stagger back. "I bet you will not even show for the fight, pauk-de. I will grind you into a stain on the kehrite floors." The male stalked off, wobbling slightly.

…..

"I'll kill him." snarled Nihkou'te. "I'll slice off bits of his body-" M-di'Nan-ku stopped him with a hand.

"Do not worry, brother. Not all Yautja appreciate what we do. He will be very sorry tomorrow for the insults."

Despite Nihkou'te's anger, Guan-Thwei laughed slightly and said, "We will have some good entertainment tomorrow. M-di'Nan-ku will make the tarei'hasan eat his words."

…..

The next morning, the Jehdin/Jehdin battle began. An unusually large crowd had gathered, since this was not a typical fight. Nihkou'te's brother stood on one side and his opponent, who it turned out, had never met M-di'Nan-ku in his life, stood at the other. He looked unsure and probably regretted his drinking the night before. The Elder who would judge the match strode into the centre and announced the warriors to the crowd.

"The warrior Mct'lan has challenged the ceremonial dancer M-di'Nan-ku to Jehdin/Jehdin to settle differences in opinions. May the warrior who is speaking the truth be victorious and the warrior who is false be punished. Step forward and greet each other." They walked slowly forwards and shook each other's shoulders. M-di'Nan-ku had a rather nasty grin on his face, which did nothing for his opponent, who was likely hung-over, if Yautja could get hang-overs. The Elder strode out of the arena and the two fighters moved into their battle stances.

"You can still bow out, you know. It will be less humiliating." the abnormally tall male said, letting his voice carry throughout the whole kehrite.

"Never. _I _will be the victorious one, Dancer." growled Mct'lan. He swiped with both sets of claws, one after the other. M-di'Nan-ku dropped and rolled away, springing up. He dropped into his battle stance again, which was not the Hiju; instead it was more like an ooman martial arts stance. He grinned and beckoned his opponent over. Mct'lan stalked over, his hands clenched in fists. He lashed out with an uppercut… And was blocked. They began close combat, kicking and punching, slashing and gouging. As far as Matt could see, Mct'lan did not land a single blow; M-di'Nan-ku blocked every single one and landed his own powerful strikes. Green blood was soon dripping from many tiny splits and long gashes on M-di'Nan-ku's opponent.

Nihkou'te's brother called out, "You may submit if you wish!"

"NEVER!" roared Mct'lan as he pulled away to re-group. He snarled and panted and glared, though his fierce image was ruined by the blood he was spitting out and rendered comical, like a fallen bully. M-di'Nan-ku's mandibles spread in a smug grin. Mct'lan came charging again, slightly careless; his opponent snatched his wrist and drew him close while at the same time pulling him along. M-di'Nan-ku stuck out his leg and tripped him, letting go of his hand at the exact moment when he was too far to easily catch himself. Mct'lan fell heavily, smashing his face into the ground. M-di'Nan-ku bent over him, one hand behind his back, the other extended downwards, offering aid. Mct'lan seized it and yanked, planting a foot in the centre of M-di'Nan-ku's chest to help propel him along. To Mct'lan's amazement, his move did not work; instead of causing his opponent to collide head first into the ground, the dancer tucked into and ball and turned a somersault, then sprang into a series of handsprings. The watching crowd erupted into roars and laughter as M-di'Nan-ku traveled almost the entire way around the kehrite before landing, panting slightly and braced as he fought his dizziness. Humiliated, Mct'lan bellowed in rage and stampeded forwards, fist swinging out. M-di'Nan-ku was almost a moment to slow, leaning far backwards onto his hands; feet swinging up, catching Mct'lan in the chin and flinging him back. M-di'Nan-ku landed in a crouch, warily watching Mct'lan with his yellow eyes. Mct'lan held his jaw and grimaced, carefully wiggling his lower mandibles. He knew he had to be much more cautious. He began circling the crouched acrobat. M-di'Nan-ku did not turn his head. He decided to attack from behind, a mistake that he would soon regret once he woke up again. Mct'lan leaped forwards. His taloned hands closed on M-di'Nan-ku's dreadlocks. Powerful hands clamped around his wrists like steel bars. Crushing force was exerted, forcing him to let go. Then, M-di'Nan-ku jumped up, slamming his broad, hard head into Mct'lan's throat and jaw. He let go and Mct'lan plummeted downwards, completely unconscious. M-di'Nan-ku thrust his hands in the air as the audience erupted in roars and stomps. Nain-desintje-da, The Pure Win, was M-di'Nan-ku's. He had not a single scratch or bruise on his body. He crouched beside the fallen Yautja and made a big show of feeling his wrists to check if he was still alive. M-di'Nan-ku smiled suddenly and nodded, much to the laughter of the audience. He stood and bowed low, his face nearly touching the ground and then he back flipped, landing on his hands. Then, M-di'Nan-ku began walking on his hands, before flipping easily onto his feet again and running out.


End file.
